


Your Heart Is My Home

by YohKoBennington



Series: What We Wanted [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M, Mention of Minor Character Death, Post S5 AU, Pregnant Dean, mpreg!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-08 21:01:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1956012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YohKoBennington/pseuds/YohKoBennington
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the news of a baby in the way, Sam and Dean have to start planning for a different future they set out to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Heart Is My Home

**Author's Note:**

> *This is set during the last month of Dean's first trimester.  
> *Town's completely made up.
> 
> Thanks to my beta mayhsgirl.

 

 

 

 

[ ](http://s803.photobucket.com/user/YB87/media/Fics%20art/What%20We%20wanted/YHIMH-Banner_zps31e87d50.jpg.html)

 

 

1.

Sam takes a sip of his beer, browsing lazily on his computer, and waits for Dean to come out of the bathroom. He glances at their duffel bags, wondering when and how their lives got turned upside down, again. They should have left Arizona two days ago, but of course at that point in time Sam didn't know he's going to be a father yet. And now, the decision they have been struggling with for weeks of giving up hunting or not, has been completely taken out of their hands.

To say that Sam is still processing the news is an understatement. But he keeps it to himself, because Dean is freaking out enough for the both of them already. Besides, the news, while choking, has set a warm feeling in Sam's chest he can't get rid of no matter how many negative thoughts come to his head. He is scared, just as Dean is, because the terrible precedence of hunters successfully leaving hunting isn't very encouraging. After dealing with something as big as the apocalypse and losing so much, it is hard not to be afraid for the life they'll be responsible of and what the future awaits for them. At the same time, overpowering all that fear, there is joy.

All he ever wanted since he found out monsters are real was to be safe. Be a normal Joe with a job and a family to come home to every night. Destiny had forced that dream away, and at some point Sam stopped hoping it would happen after each new obstacle they overcame. Dean's pregnancy is that chance to be something other than two guys who risk their lives and kill monsters. No more worrying about either dying on the job.

Sam smiles to himself. Yeah, this baby while unexpected, is that silver lighting they both need.

The fuss coming from the bathroom snaps him back to the present, and Sam can distinctly hear Dean cursing. He stares at the door, legs poised to get up if the fuss continues. But then Dean is opening the door, face a bit red, jeans unbuttoned.

“Everything alright?” Sam brows furrowing at the way Dean walks quickly over his duffel, retrieves another pair of jeans—Sam hasn't seen him wear those other than during laundry day because they are a bit loose on his brother— and then march back to the bathroom and slam the door shut.

Sam blinks, and waits.

Dean comes back out few minutes later, wearing the laundry jeans, the other pair getting thrown unceremoniously on the duffel. Then Dean seats on the chair next to Sam's as if nothing ever happened.

Sam stares at him.

Dean crosses his arms defensively.

Sam brows rise, still staring.

Dean squirms, ears and neck completely red now.

Sam keeps looking at him.

Dean grumbles something.

“I'm sorry, I didn't catch that.” Sam answers.

Dean glares at him.

Sam shrugs apologetic.

“I said,” Dean mutters. “Those jeans are too tight.”

“Oh,” Sam smirks.

“Shut up,”

“Did I say anything?”

“It's all over your smug face.” Dean accuses.

Sam pats him on the back. “Don't worry; we'll get you some jeans that fit.”

Dean grumbles, and then focuses on Sam's laptop. “What are you doing?” He asks changing the subject.

“So, uh, we gotta find a place to live.”

Dean nods.

“Preferably somewhere not too known and as out of the hunters radars as possible.”

Which takes Bobby's house of the equation automatically. It's not like they would even go live there anyways. Too many memories, bad and good, to deal with.

Dean clears his throat, obviously thinking about Bobby just as Sam. “Okay, where do we go?”

“Hot or cold?” Sam asks instead of answering.

“What?”

“Do we want to move to a warm or cold state?”

They take their time thinking about it.

“How about one that's in between?”

Sam looks at him surprised. “I thought you’d go for a warm place.”

“Well,” Dean says scratching the back of his neck. “Warm places are good for vacations. But the time we spent in Florida a few weeks back was enough for any happy notion I had of living there to go up in flames. I've got enough freckles as it is, and actually sweating until my balls are drenching isn't fun.”

Sam twists his face in disgust. “Gross.”

“You know you love my balls, Sammy.”

“Oh god,” Sam groans, and rolls his eyes. “Anyways, I agree with you.”

“About loving my balls?”

“Dean!”

Dean laughs. Sam huffs partially annoyed.

“I _agree_ , that we should go to a place with both weathers.”

“Then that's settled.” Dean waves dismissively, getting up from the chair, and walking towards the kitchen to get some water.

“I do love your freckles,” Sam voices as an afterthought. He chuckles at Dean's suffered sigh.

 

~*~

“What kind of house are we exactly looking for?” Sam asks the next morning, while they spend a lazy day on the bed. His laptop is over his legs, with the browser open on real state pages for the north-eastern coast.

“Does it really matter?” Dean says sleepily.

“Of course it does. Do we want one or two stories? How many rooms? A yard? Or should we go for a condo instead?”

Dean shrugs. “Whatever you want.”

“Dean, c'mon.”

“Just get one with a garage I can put baby in, and I'm fine with it.”

“You're so much help,” Sam deadpans.

Dean shrugs, turning away from him. “All I really need is you, Sammy.” He murmurs, and promptly starts snoring softly.

Sam would kick him out of the bed just on principle, but he's too busy melting over what Dean just said. Sometimes, Dean surprises him so much with such openness, that Sam has to double take to make sure he heard his brother actually said those words. To Sam, Dean has always been this stoic big brother, and he accepted it even when it drove him to madness having to pull tooth and nail to get Dean to talk about his issues. But since they started the road trip, Dean seems to have relaxed enough to let tiny slivers of emotions come through with words and expressions Sam never experienced coming from him before.

This change makes him wonder how much Dean's emotions were oppressed because of their father, and how much because of hunting. If by leaving their previous life behind, he will get to see a different side of Dean that feels less need to hide and protect himself from everybody in his life. It makes him quite mad when he thinks about it. Of course he never points it out because it will only end with Dean closing up again.

Sighing, he focuses back to his laptop. It doesn't do him any good to dwell in the past. He has a lot of research to do, and little time.

 

 

2.

Dean fucking hates puking. Honestly, Dean would prefer dealing with a witch spewing bodily fluids over this, and that's saying something. Another wave of nausea has him gagging over the toilet, and spitting vile because there is nothing left to actually throw up anymore. He grunts, resting his head over his folded arms to take a moment to breathe.

“Dean, you need anything?” Sam asks from the other side of the closed door.

Sam and his damn mother-henning. Can a guy puke his stomach out in peace? “I'm fine.” He snaps back.

“Gee, don't bite my head off, dude.”

“Sam, I swear if you don't leave me alone, I'll come out there and puke all over you.”

Sam mutters something, Dean thinks it's “asshole”, before he hears him walking away from the door. Whatever, Sam should know by now to not bother him when he's busy trying to keep his stomach inside his body. Dean's too busy feeling miserable to care if Sam is mad at him for that. He rubs his stomach, willing it to stop the cramping because, really, what else can he keep puking. Enough already!

Dean stays there until he can trust his stomach to not rebel again. He flushes the toilet disgusted, before standing up, knees popping at the sudden change of position.

Goddamn morning sickness.

He grabs his toothbrush, dabs some toothpaste, and starts brushing his teeth hastily to get that awful taste of bile out of his mouth. Dean could really, really, do without this shit. He never wanted to have the whole _growing a human being inside_ _you_ experience. As soon he found out his carrier status when he was fifteen, he made damn sure there was never a single chance of getting pregnant.

And then the fucking _almost end of the world_ happened. Next time he thinks that possibly dying is a good excuse to have unprotected sex somebody should shoot him with rock salt. Because now he's friggin pregnant. Dammit.

Finishing brushing his teeth, he splashes some cold water on his face and dries it with the scratchy motel towel. He glances at his stomach through the mirror. There's nothing visible through his clothes, and some days it's easier to pretend this isn't happening to him. Dean fingers the end of his shirt, before deciding to stop being a chicken shit, and rising his shirt up to his chest. On this angle, his stomach just looks normal. Then he turns to his side, and there it is. Soft curve of growing baby in all its display.

Dean pokes the tiny baby bump curiously. How's that supposed to be a baby?

He glances back to the mirror and tries to picture himself with a bigger belly. He's pretty sure his imagination comes pretty short of what he'll look like in a few months. And then, there will be a wiggly, crying baby to take care of.

_What a disaster._

It's not like Dean doesn't like kids. Or that the idea of having his own never crossed his mind. But the same day he found out he could get pregnant, was the same day he decided he would never bring a kid to the kind of life he was living up to weeks ago. Because, as much Dad did what he could, the way they grew up wasn't normal. Sam and he have enough issues to vouch for it. Nevermind the kind of things Dean knows lurk in the dark, that if every parent knew about, they would keep their children looked up in their houses forever.

There is also the fact that he's with Sam, and while he would never consider what they have wrong— and whoever does can go fuck themselves because they simply don't know them. He never wanted to deal with the thought of their relationship having consequences he can't begin to grasp on a child that has no say, or fault in the whole situation. And it scares him. Just the possibility of the baby being born with three arms, or one eye, or who knows what other weird crap could happen, makes him want to puke more.

As much Dean always liked the idea of expanding his family, the bad prospects and dangers of doing so are too high for it to be something he needs in his life.

Nothing much he can do about the situation now, right?

Dean looks down to the bun, hand moving on its own to cup the swell. He can't help but apologize to the baby. This is Dean's fault after all. This baby doesn't deserve what's coming to it, and Dean feels so guilty for being so irresponsible. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Why does he always have to screw things up? What's he supposed to do? Should he believe that they'll be so lucky to get out of hunting, and nothing will come knocking on their door couple of years later? That their fucked up destiny isn't going to bring more pain? Dean can't even fathom dealing with something happening to their kid. He wouldn't be able to live with it. And Sam is out there searching for a place to settle, as if they're normal people, and leaving hunting is that easy. _What the fuck are they doing?_

Strong, callused hands on his neck startle him, and he drops his hand from the bun. Sam is standing right there in front of him. Dean never heard the bathroom door opening or Sam coming close. He opens his mouth to protest, but all that comes out is a choked exhale. Sam's hands hold him tighter, thumbs pressing under Dean's jaw to tilt his head back.

Dean swallows the knot in his throat, just as Sam moves closer and he feels his warm lips over his. It's a ridiculously chaste kiss. It's enough to shut down all current thoughts in Dean's mind. His body automatically relaxes, because it remembers who's touching him and kissing him. It knows its home. It's easy for Dean to get lost, and deepen the kiss, body inching closer until he can feel Sam's heat fusing with his. His hands move to Sam's back, fisting his shirt, because he doesn't want to let this go. And when Sam's tongue sweeps over his lips, Dean eagerly lets him in. There is nothing else but the beating of their hearts, and the electricity raising goosebumps in their skin. For that moment, the world with its dangers, fears, and pain stops existing.

It's just Sam and him.

They kiss until they cannot kiss anymore, and even as they are panting Sam doesn't let go. He looks at Dean in the eyes, so many emotions running through them that Dean's knees shake with the force of them. Because as scared and insecure as he is, Dean just has to look at Sam in the eyes to remember that he's not alone. That they have been through so much crap and come out victorious because they are a team, they fight together. And this time, is not different.

It's just harder to let go than he thought it would be.

Sam is still looking at him, thumbs rubbing Dean's absently. Dean nods, because it's all he can give him for now. Acknowledgment that he got Sam's message loud and clear.

It seems to be enough for Sam. He kisses Dean's forehead, and leaves just as he came.

Dean leans against the wall, breathing deeply.

 

~*~

Five minutes later, he decides he has composed himself enough to come out of the bathroom. Sam is moving around the room, pining papers on the wall. The wall itself looks like a the map they use when they are hunting.

“Think I found a place for us.” Sam sticks another paper over the wall.

Dean moves closer to it, reading some of the papers. It's mostly picture of houses, with the real estate information. Next to each, Sam has made lists and cross-lining of hunts around the areas and what hunters live closer to each.

“Dude, really?” Dean says pointing at the papers.

Sam shrugs.

Dean shakes his head, and sighs. Leave it to Sam to turn this into a sort of school project. “Okay, where is this place?”

“The name is Queentribes. It's in New Hampshire.” Sam explains, pointing at the place in the map. “It's a very small town. Far enough that hunters don't go there, and there has never been anything supernatural reported in it.”

Dean eyebrow perks up. “That's impossible. Every town has some freaky mojo to deal with.”

Sam shrugs. “Believe me, I researched the town up and down. There's nothing.”

“I'll be damned.”

“I looked for houses on the market.” Sam moves to grab a paper from under his laptop on the table. “And this farmhouse is on the list.” He passes the paper to Dean.

Dean whistles appreciatively. “A farmhouse, Sam?” He contemplates the picture. The house looks pretty nice, and big, which means warding will be a bitch. “Do we need all that space?”

“It's not as big as you think.” Sam retorts. “It's only three bedrooms, and two bathrooms. It has a yard, a garage and a big enough driveway.”

“Okay...” Dean answers not convinced.

Sam sighs exasperated. “Look you told me to choose one, and just to give you a garage for the Impala. Well, I did, and I like this one.”

“Do we even have enough money to pay for it?”

“We do.” Sam assures. “From Bobby's inheritance.”

Dean tenses. “Sam—”

“Are we really going to have an argument about this?”

“Yes,”

“Dean—”

“I don't want to use his money,”

“He left it to us so we could use it. Not to let it go to waste.”

Dean rubs his face with his hand. “I don't know, man. It feels...wrong.”

“Why?”

“Because,”

“Because Bobby is dead?”

Dean flinches, avoiding looking at Sam. He tries to not think about it. To not remember the last time he saw Bobby. “Yeah.”

Sam exhales tiredly, shoulders dropping. “Don't you think that Bobby would want this for us?”

Dean glances back at him.

“I do.” Sam confesses. “Bobby planned for us to stop hunting and find a permanent place. Otherwise I don't see why he would gather all that money and put it under our names.”

“He could have left it for hunting supplies...”

Sam stares at him. “Because we need that much money for any of that,” he scoffs.

“Okay, but Sam why would he even think that we were going to stop hunting?”

“I don't need to answer that, and you know it.”

Yeah, Dean does know. He can count with both of his hands how many times, just in the last year Bobby mentioned his wish for him and Sam to step back from hunting, if they survived the apocalypse. Leave it to the other hunters to deal with the monsters.

“Dean, we're doing what he wanted to see happening.” Sam says, “if anything, we're following his wishes, don't you think?”

Dean can't argue with that, can't he? He nods, because he can't trust his voice right now. _Jesuschrist_ , he's such a girl today.

“So, we're getting this house?” Sam asks, uncertain.

Dean clears his throat, pushing away the turmoil of feelings. “Yeah, Sammy. Let's get that house.”

Sam smiles widely.

Dean's chest gets lighter with it.

 

 

3.

They leave Arizona two hours later, after contacting the owner of the house in Queentribes who agrees on holding the house for them since they are so far. The whole trip would take them two days if they drove straight up, but they need to make a pit stop in Sioux Falls before getting to New Hampshire.

Dean's mostly chatty the first few hours, whatever was bothering him back in the motel room already buried inside. Sam joins the conversation, pretending everything is fine because it does him no good to push Dean to tell him what's happening in that head of his.

They stop at a gas station off route 70 in Colorado for gas and some snacks. The rundown convenience store behind the gas pumps smells of fried chicken and hot dogs when they come in. Dean last two minutes before he's running outside to retch whatever his body hasn't absorbed from the soup Sam made him eat before heading out. Sam takes charge of getting the food they need and paying the gas, while Dean avoids the building and feeds the car instead.

He's still looking green when Sam comes back with their food, and Dean is sitting inside the car.

“Maybe I should drive for a while?” He suggests, dropping the plastic bags in the backseat.

Dean shoots him a glare, and puts the car in drive.

Ten minutes later, they are stopping on the side of the road for Dean to puke some more.

After that it's easier for Sam to pry the car keys away from Dean's hands.

 

~*~

It's dark when they get to Nebraska. Sam decides to stop for the night, and gets off the highway when he sees the signs for a motel. If this was a hunt, they would be pushing it, and keep going until they reached South Dakota. But they are not in that kind of life anymore, there is no need to get themselves killed over sleep deprivation. Besides, Sam's back is starting to protest being in the car for so many hours, and he's pretty sure Dean would prefer to spend the night on a bed after having an upset stomach for most of the way. It will only take them half day to reach their first destination tomorrow anyways.

Sam is dreading it.

Neither has been in Bobby's house in two months. Them moving around and doing so much on these past weeks, feels like a year had gone by from that day in Stull Cemetery where they defeated Heaven and Hell. It made easier to pretend the wounds aren't so fresh and how much it hurts. Bobby, Cas, Adam, Ellen, Jo, even Chuck...they are all gone. Sam tries not to think about how they gave their lives to save a world that will never know it almost came to an end. Or about his own guilt over their deaths. He focuses on the happy memories, and hopes that their souls are in peace, whatever that means. And he tries to stir Dean from the quilt he knows his brother feels over their deaths too. It's not always easy. Going back to Bobby's will be hard.

Sam gets the room, doesn't even bother to ask for two beds this time, and them drags Dean out of the car with their duffel bags.

As soon as he's inside, Dean gets his jacket and boots off. “I feel gross,” he mutters, grimacing.

“Because you're gross,” Sam digs.

“Fuck you,” Dean grunts, without real heat.

Sam salts the bottom of the door and the front windows sills, while Dean takes care of the bathroom window and the protecting sigils. Just because they are leaving the hunting life doesn't stop the dangerous things from existing.

When they are done, they hop in the shower together, like they always do whenever the shower is big enough. It's easy for Sam to get distracted with the expense of Dean's body. Cataloging the scars with the hunts and dates they happened, as if he doesn't know them by memory already. He traces with his fingers, matching them with his own scars, and retelling the story of their rough and dangerous life.

As they wash each other Sam realizes that they are no new scars since the fight in Stull, and there won't be any hunting related at all in their future. And the reason for it is something new in Dean's body that gets all his attention. He had a glance of it before, but now with Dean completely naked it's right there. He can't help ghosting his hand over the tiny swell of Dean's stomach. Sam glances up, aware of the boundary he has crossed. Dean's expression is unreadable, but the blush that spreads all the way down his neck tells Sam enough. He makes his touch firmer, and doesn't take his hand away even with Dean's inhale.

“Sam.”

“That's our baby.” Sam smiles with all the love and joy that statement brings in him.

Dean grabs his wrist, seeming to want to pull Sam's hand off him. Instead he moves his hand over Sam's. “You're really happy about this?”

Sam doesn't hesitate with his answer. “Yeah, I am.”

Dean downcasts his eyes again, and says nothing. Sam wants to ask him if he's happy about it, but he can see by Dean's tensed posture that he's not ready for that question yet. No matter that it's on the tip of his tongue to ask, to reassure Dean that whatever the issue, Sam is there for him, he will wait.

Sam can be a patient man if the circumstances don't involve life or dead.

Dean sighs, shoulders dropping his tense posture. “I'm going to get so fat,” he says dramatically.

Sam chortles. “You'll still be sexy.”

Dean squints at him. “You're just saying that now. Wait until I get a basketball in the middle, and can't even see my own dick.”

Sam moves his hand around Dean's back, and drags him closer to his body. He pictures Dean as he's describing himself for a moment. “Yup, still damn sexy”

Dean gives him a sly look. “You kinky bastard.”

Sam kisses him, cutting any further argument. He doesn't waste time on sweeping his tongue over Dean's lips, before plunging inside. Dean moans, his hands tangling with Sam's wet hair, body pressing harder against him. Sam breaks the kiss to move down Dean's jaw, nipping his way to the juncture where his ear starts. The reaction is instant, Dean moans louder, hips thrusting his already half hard cock against Sam's tight. Sam takes his time there, leaving his own mark on Dean's skin, as his hand travel down to squeeze Dean's ass.

“Shit,” Dean gasps. And Sam loves how broken he sounds.

“Do you know how much it turns me on knowing you're carrying my baby?” He whispers on Dean's ear. “To know that I did that?”

Dean shivers, then steps back a little to kiss him, playfully biting Sam's bottom lip. “You gonna show me?”

Sam growls, and reaches to shut off the water “Bed.” He grabs Dean's wrist, and drags him out of the shower. They are all wet, but Sam can care less, when he pushes Dean on the bed, and crawls over him.

“So bossy,” Dean teases faintly, breath catching when Sam tongues one of his nipples. Sam keeps moving down, mapping with his tongue Dean's ribs, then his belly, down to his navel. He's done this so many times, but he can't never get enough. It's like he's discovering Dean's body again, and he doesn't know how's that even possible. Every sound he punches out of Dean with his touch, sends fire all over his body. And he never wants to lose this. This is everything, and all.

When he swallows Dean in one movement, and his brother almost shoots out of bed, he grabs his hips to hold him down. He sucks Dean until he's completely hard, and panting. Body taut with the pleasure Sam's tongue is giving him every time he swirls over the head of his cock. As fun it would be to make Dean come just from it, Sam's plan tonight includes his dick inside of Dean.

He releases Dean's cock with a pop, and crawls back up to kiss him. Dean always kisses him as it would be the last. Tongue swiping every centimeter of Sam's mouth until either knows where one starts and the other ends. He kisses his own taste away, and it's so damn hot Sam can't wait any longer. He breaks the kiss, and reaches behind Dean, where their duffel rest next to the bed.

Dean huffs. “Damn heavy,” he complains, nipping his own way on Sam's neck and collarbone. Sam tries to concentrate on getting the lube out of the duffel, but Dean keeps rocking his hips, rutting his cock against his and it's fucking distracting.

“Fuck, Dean, stop—” Sam whines, one particular thrust making him lose his grip on the bottle of lube. Dean laughs, the air brushing over Sam's heated skin. _Jerk_. He uses the moment of distraction to finally get what he needs. He quickly gets his two fingers coated, and finds Dean's hole. He teases a little, barely getting the tip in before circling around the rim. Two can play this game.

“Stop teasing,” Dean growls, reaching for Sam's arm, but Sam catches him and forces his hand back on the comforter.

“Patience,” Sam replies mischievously. He gets one finger inside before Dean can protest again, and makes quick work of getting the second in after a few thrusts.

“Sam, if you don't get with the program you're gonna be left behind.” Dean pants, thrusting his hips harder when Sam adds a third finger. “I'm ready, just, _fuck_ -” he chokes out, and Sam moves his fingers against his sweet spot again, enjoying how Dean's begs for more.

Sam's own cock is starting to feel neglected, the promise of sweet tight hotness too much to wait any longer for. He get his fingers out, coating his cock with the rest of the lube, and aligns himself before pushing all the way in until he bottoms up. Dean mewls, legs bracketing Sam's hips as if to keep him there forever. Sam almost comes just from the way Dean's red-kissed mouth opens in ecstasy, and the tightness surrounding his cock. He pulls almost all the way out, and thrust back before Dean has time to miss the fullness. Dean surges up to kiss him, as Sam sets an unforgiving pace that has the mattress moving out of place. Sam can feel Dean's cock trapped between his belly, leaving a trail of pre-come as the move together. But he's not going to touch it because tonight he wants unravel Dean so hard he won't be able to think straight for a few minutes. He wants to know how much he means it what he said in the shower.

“Want you to come only on my dick.” He pants, and gets his hands under Dean's hips, pushing up, the position making his cock go deeper. Dean shouts, hands scrabbling to hold on Sam's shoulders, and Sam knows he's nailing his prostate with each thrust now. Dean becomes a babbling mess, cursing and begging for nothing in particular and everything at the same time. “C'mon, Dean, come for me.”

Dean does, shooting all over his belly and Sam's chest. The sight it's enough to undo Sam, and it only takes him few more thrust as Dean rides his orgasm, before he's also tipping over the edge. He finds Dean's mouth and kisses him, while he comes down from his own high. When he pulls out his softening dick, he falls next to Dean, sweaty skin to sweaty skin, letting their heart beats to go back to normal.

“It's always the quiet ones,” Dean whispers jokingly.

Sam slaps him teasingly in the shoulder.

 

 

4.

They make it to Sioux Falls by late afternoon the next day. Dean tells himself that morning sickness is what makes him stop the car and throw up his guts on the side of the road, just before they get to the house. Everything looks mostly as the way they left it before embarking on their road trip, except for the overgrown grass between the junkyard and back of the house.

“Let's get this over with.” Dean sighs, getting out of the car.

Sam gets the crowbar and empty duffel bag out the trunk, while Dean goes to open the house. The familiar humid smell of dust and old paper hits them as soon they are inside, and it's so easy to daydream for a minute and believe their second home hasn't been empty for a while. Sam squeezes past him, climbing the stairs to the second floor. Dean closes the front door slowly, and stands there. He should go up with Sam, and help him get the wood floor inside the storage closet loose to get the stash of money Bobby _oh so wisely_ saved over the years, for them.

The more Dean thinks about the fact that Bobby planned out a future for them when either was thinking about it, it's harder to come to terms with it.

So instead of going with Sam, he walks towards the studio and checks the demonic and angelic sigils Sam and he wrote on the doors to protect Bobby's supernatural library from unwanted visitors is still holding, before opening the door.

Dean can hear Sam plucking up wood above as he walks around the studio, and he pretends not know what that means. He sits on the sofa he had spent so many nights sleeping on in his life. Bobby's desk still rests before the wall bookcase, dusty and empty of Cold Turkey next to the lamp. He can see Bobby sitting behind it, calling him an idjit for hiding in his studio because he doesn't want to face another proof that he's not here anymore. Dean misses the old man, and he wonders if Bobby would be happy about the baby. He always knew about them being together. They never talked about it, and neither Sam nor Dean told him, but he knew. Dean knows that much. He regrets that he won't have a chance to tease him and call him grandpa, and that his baby won't ever meet the only other family Dean had besides Sam and Dad while growing up on the road. That his baby will never experience firsthand how awesome Bobby was.

He doesn't have anybody to bitch about Sam when he pisses him off anymore. How sad and shitty is that?

Dean's only consolation is that Bobby's in Heaven, probably with Karen. They made sure to get his soul back from Crowley as soon the Devil was locked back in the cage. At least he's happy and resting in true peace, and there is no chance that Bobby will be pulled back to another mess that seems to be the Winchester's life.

Dean eyes the room, taking in every detail for a last time. They won't be coming back here, unless their crappy luck drops them back into the supernatural. He and Sam agreed to keep the house just for that, just in case they need a place to hide that can actually protect them.

He feels a nudge on his knee and blinks, looking up at Sam standing there with the obviously not empty duffel in one hand and crowbar in the other.

“Where you falling asleep?”

“What? No!” Dean stands up quickly, offended by Sam's accusation.

Sam snorts. “I'm done. Anything else we should take with us?”

They both look around.

“I want some of his books with us. Just the big volume ones with basically everything with have dealt with and more.” Sam says after a while.

“Okay.”

Dean finds a couple of boxes in the basement, and helps Sam to pack the books. Some nicknack's get thrown in between, and soon they have four boxes full of heavy books and stuff that they gathered through the years and Bobby kept for himself.

“Here,” Sam passes the duffel bag to Dean, who raises an eyebrow in question. “You bring this to the car, and I take care of the boxes.”

“Why?”

“Because you're tired.”

“I can carry a couple.” Dean answers, warning in his voice.

Sam opens his mouth to protest, but Dean bends, grabs one of the boxes and glares at him while walking to the back door. “I'm not a freaking invalid.” He mutters stepping down the stairs.

“Whatever, grumpy. Just trying to be nice.” Sam retorts comes from inside the house.

“Shut up, Sam.”

 

~*~

After getting all the boxes in the backseat of the Impala, they drive a few more miles until late night before finding a motel room. Dean is the first one to climb into bed, too tired to even pretend he's not. Sam joins him as soon he's done with the salt line at the door. Sam, just as tired, falls asleep pretty fast.

Lying there in the dark, after going to Bobby's, he becomes completely conscious that he truly only has Sam left. There's no one else. Everybody is dead. If anything happened to Sam...

Dean snuggles closer to Sam, until he can feel his brother's heartbeat against his own. He's not going to think about that. Nothing will happen to Sam, no on Dean's watch.

He'll make damn sure of it.

 

~*~

Queentribes is a nice looking town, considering that's at the butt of the New Hampshire state and surrounded by forest and mountains. The main street is a flair of activity, most of the business adorning each inch square from beginning to end. The farmhouse is located at the quieter and secluded part of the town, the house before it five minutes in between.

Jimmy, the house owner, wastes no time in taking them for a tour starting from the garden. The house itself is a wood-framed, one-story Queen Anne Style farmhouse that according to Jimmy has been in his family for decades. Dean listens lazily about the details, knowing full well Sam will memorize anything that's necessary to know for the both of them, and climbs up the five stairs to the porch that wraps around to the south of the farmhouse. Once inside, the open floor makes the house look bigger than from outside. The living room (with a working chimney), dining room, and kitchen are all connected. There's a door by the hall closest to the kitchen that takes them down to the baseman. A wall divides the hall and on the other side there are a series of doors that Jimmy points out are a small studio, a closet, two bedrooms and the bathroom. At the end of the hall the last door being the master bedroom with its own bathroom— to which Dean doesn't miss the chance to wiggle his eyebrows suggestively to Sam when Jimmy isn't looking, making his brother shake his head amused. In the kitchen there is a door that takes them to the mudroom that connects directly to the two cars garage. Sam glances at Dean, and Dean gives him two thumbs up of approval. The kitchen also opens to another porch with paneled windows before the yard already full of orange, yellow, and red leaves extents to the end of the property.

All in all, it's pretty medium sized house. Too big if you ask Dean, but this is what Sam wants, and he's not going to protest about it. He walks around the yard, leaves crunching under his boots, and the autumn cold wing chilling his bones. Dean peeks over where Sam is talking to Jimmy in the porch, and he roams over the whole house, that's going to be theirs. Dean hasn't had a house in so long he forgot what a nice feeling is to have a place you can come back to, a place you can call you own. They're seriously doing this. Their kid is going to grow up with a house, go to school, have friends...

It seems all surreal.

As much he's trying not the get excited about all of this, he can't really not be. Dean's already planning to build a swing under the big oak tree guilty of flooding the yard with the leaves. Can imagine snowball fights, and knows they will have barbecues as soon it warms up.

“So, what do you think?”

Dean blinks off his daze, the hand holding unconsciously his baby bun dropping immediately. Sam give him a knowing look, and walks until they are side by side.

“I think it’s fine.”

“Yeah?” Sam asks excitedly.

“Yup.”

“Good, then it's ours.”

Dean eyebrow perks up. “Jimmy just gonna give it to us?”

“We're buying it Dean, he's not giving it to us.” Sam corrects.

“You know what I mean.”

“He has other buyers, but he has decided that if we wanted it's ours.”

“Really, just like that?”

Sam gives him a condescending look. “Sometimes good things do happen, you know?”

Dean rolls his eyes, but doesn't answer. That statement is up for questioning in so many levels, and Dean doesn't think it will ever stop being that way. Sam can be the optimist for the both of them.

“Okay, so what do we do now?”

“We give him the money, sign contracts, and move in.”

“That easy, huh?”

Sam smiles. “Easy as cake.”

“Seriously dude. Easy as cake?” Dean huffs.

“What?” Sam chuckles. “Cake is the same thing as pie.”

Dean gapes disbelieving. “I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that,” then walks away muttering. “Unbelievable.”

 

 

5.

When Sam left for Stanford his belongings consisted of a duffel bag with his clothes, his backpack with his personal stuff and his laptop, and the money he carefully saved since he decided hunting wasn't what he wanted to do for the rest of his life. It took him a day to get his dorm room all together. Same happened with the apartment he shared with Jessica; it came with furniture already, and Sam didn't have much with him, still used to the life he was trying to run from so hard and never really left.

Moving in to the new house takes more time, and it's a whole new experience. After the sale is closed and Jimmy hands him the keys, they still spend the night at the towns motel because the house is devoid of furnitures— the only thing in it are the kitchen appliances, plus washer and dryer that Dean managed to get a deal for with Jimmy— and Sam wouldn't let Dean camp in it like they have done before and sleep on the floor. Dean would regret it in the morning, and Sam is trying all the way possible to not have a cranky brother on his hands.

The next day, they get information from the motel clerk about this outlet market half hour away from the town and decide to make the trip. By the end of the day, they got themselves a bedroom set, a sofa, a T.V with its stand, and a coffee table that the store will deliver for them the next morning. They also get some kitchen utensils that they take with them to save with the couple of boxes adorning the back of the Impala that didn't fit in the trunk.

That night Sam fucks Dean slowly, taking his time to memorize again every tiny gasp, moan and the flush of Dean's sweaty skin against his. This is the last time they'll ever do this in a motel. Tomorrow they are finally starting a new life together and his dream of being safe is actually tangible. Most of all, their kid is going to grow up to feel safe and care for, and Sam can't ask for anything better than that. As he lies there in the dark, Dean's body pressed tightly to his, he feels the tension he has carried for five years vanish like dust in the wind, and a lightness he never thought possible to feel takes house on his chest along side with all the love he feels for his brother and their baby.

Sam thinks that maybe this is what it's like to feel happiness.

 

~*~

“This is the last box with books.” Dean announces, stepping down the stair to the baseman.

“Put it right on top of that one by the wall.” Sam instructs, rummaging inside another box for stuff they can take out for the house.

Dean stretches his arms up, his back making popping noises that have Sam wincing in sympathy. “Man, if moving this little stuff is so much work, I don't wanna know how it would be if we had a bunch of shit.”

“You insisted on carrying the boxes.” Sam reminds him scornfully. He's still pissed about Dean getting his point across by wrestling him to the floor and twisting his limbs until Sam had to call uncle, when Sam suggested he do the heavy job when they started moving in.

Dean shots him a look. “You gonna start with that again?”

“Nope. Just making an observation in an observational way.” Sam answers dryly.

Sam doesn't have to look to know Dean is rolling his eyes at him, and he ignores it because he doesn't want to have a stupid fight their first day in the house.

“What are we gonna do with the arsenal in the trunk?”

Sam turns around. “We could save some of them in that little sorta attic space we found in the hall closet?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Dean agrees, climbing up the stairs.

Unpacking the Impala's trunk turns almost impossible because they can't decide what to save and what to keep close just in case of monster emergency. At the end, they compromise to just keep couple of guns hidden in the house, holy water in the farthest shelve in the kitchen, and the rest saved in the place Sam suggested.

By night time, they have painted devil traps and angel proofed every corner of the house from top to bottom. The furniture that got delivered in the morning all in their assigned place and the kitchen drawers filled with the silverware, cups and plates.

They fall on their bed exhausted, but proud to have done so much in just a day. There are things still missing, stuff that as soon they get jobs will start finding their way towards their new home, but what they got right now it's enough for a while and makes the house cozy and livable.

“We have a house,” Dean's awed voice fills the quiet of their room has fallen into.

Sam turns his head to look at him, and smiles when Dean does the same. “We have a house.” He states content. A chuckles escapes from him out of nowhere, and when Dean chuckles too, they are both soon laughing so much tears start pouring out.

“We have a freaking house, Sammy.” Dean says after they calm down, and he sounds convinced this time.

Sam exhales, letting the feeling of glee wash over him. “Wanna break in the bed?”

Dean rolls on to him, grinning. “Hell yeah.”

 

 

**~Fin~**

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading ♥


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